by Frances Frost
Up and down the river the barges go:
Whether moons are yellow, whether stars flow
Softly over city, softly over town,
Sleepily the barges go up and down.
Up and down the river on summer nights
the barges drift, and emerald lights
and crimson prick the darkness
under blown out stars and gathering thunder.
Up and down the river the barges go,
Up and down the darkness river winds blow,
And sleepers in a city and sleepers in a town
Dream of the barges going up and down.